The Cold-Blooded Killer?
by PurpleLuna98
Summary: Alfred F. Jones is the most-wanted criminal in all of the Union. He has started multiple gangs across the country, murdered several people, and has escaped the clutches of authority for years. Will the new head chief of police in Boston, Arthur Kirkland, be able to bring him and his gangs in? Or will the dashing criminal have him falling head-over-heals for him first? AU, rated T


_**Yet another story idea from PurpleLuna98! Enjoy it at your leisure!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**_

_**Warnings: cussing, Boston accent (sorry in advance if this offends you!)**_

_**Song of the Chapter: You Can't Take Me, I'm Free by Bryan Adams, from Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron **_

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I smirked. Today was the day.

"Alfred, ya gonnah get up and lead us or what?" Marissa asked. I looked up at her.

I stretched, then smirked at her. "Ya gonna make me, _Marissa_."

"No. But you'ah gonnah be leading us, then you could at least get youah lazy ass up." I smiled at her accent. Now matter how much she tried to hide it, her accent betrayed the fact that she was from Boston.

"Whateves."

"Whateves? Is that what the great Alfred F. Jones says when he's being chased by the cops? Huh? No, nevah."

"Whateves. Serial killers on the run from the fuzz need breaks, too."

"Serial killah my ass. York is making breafast, so ya might wanna hurry up before I eat it all." With that, she exited the small cubicle I had come to call my room.

Yes, my gang, one of my many gangs spreading all across the United States, was crashing in an abandoned building that had cubicles. So, we used them for rooms. I stood up, off of my surprisingly-comfortable roll-up bed, and walked out of my 'room' with a yawn.

I turned down the 'hallway', and walked to the 'living room', which used to be the building's break room. Surprisingly enough, the former owners had gracefully forgotten to take out the extremely comfortable couches. Score one for the New England Stormers. Yes, that was our gang name.

I looked around to see Marissa already in here, green eyes that smirked at me and long black hair that mocked my every move (don't ask me how, it just did!).

She wore her usual fishnet tights, black stiletto boots with a huge heel, short black-denim skirt, and a tight black T-shirt that showed off her curves. She wore a chain necklace around her neck, and her earrings were giant loops that looked like they weighed down her ears. She smirked as I sat down in my usual spot at the front of the table. "Somebody decided they want breakfast this mornin'!"

"Shut it." I mumbled. To be honest, I really did. She laughed and started cooking some eggs we had 'borrowed' from a street vendor on our way over here.

"I though York was cookin'." I stated.

"I did, too." She said, concentrating on her eggs.

The next person to enter the room was the girl in question. Her blonde hair stood up straight, as if it were gelled. Her dark blue eyes studied the room, then sat down. She wore similar clothes to Marissa, but her shirt was a dark green, and she wore chain accessories around her ankles, waist, and wrists.

"Ya look totally bad ass today, Marissa."

"I know. But ya know, ya look totally bad ass in that outfit, too. Unlike mistah bossman ovah there."

I rolled my eyes. Why me? I normally just wore dark skinny jeans, chains on my beltloops, a tight black T-shirt that showed off my muscles, and my bomber jacket. It was brown with black fuzz on the collar, it had a yellow star with a white circle around it on the left chest, a little white plane on both sleeves, and a huge white 'fifty' on the back, showing how many people I had following me. That I cared about, anyway.

"You're just jealous you don't have a wicked awesome jacket like me."

"Whatevah." She said, huffing. I smiled.

"Fighting again, are we?" Manny asked, striding into the room. Of any of us, Manny was the least likely to be in this gang, but when we had met, he had begged me to let him join.

He had white hair, though he refused it, saying it was a light shade of blonde, and his eyes were a shade of blue that reminded me of ice. If you asked me, he looked like that stupid frost kid from that guardian movie. He wore the exact same outfit as me, minus the jacket. He had a diamond stud in his ear, but his white locks usually covered it. He sat down to my right, like always.

"Mornin' girls. How are you today?"

"I'm good. Thanks, Manny!" York said, smiling a little _too_ brightly at him. I smiled softly. Everyone in our gang knew of the obliviousness of Manny towards York's affection. It was really sweet, but I couldn't help but wonder if it made York a little too soft. I couldn't have soft people in my gangs. The things we did... Plus, soft people were liabilities with the police.

"How about you, Marissa?" Manny asked, turning to the girl cooking the eggs.

"I'd be a lot bettah if the other members of ouah little 'family'" she moved her fingers to make air quotes, "where heah to eat."

Marissa usually acted as the den mother of the gang. While I scoped out places to hit next, and while Carrie, our organizer, worked with Vlad, our hacker, to coordinate missions, Marissa kept us in line and made sure everyone wasn't fighting. She watched over us, like a real mother would over her own children.

Two more of our gang walked in, the twins: Vlad and Harri. They were the exact same height, had the exact same chocolate brown eyes, had the exact shade of brown hair dark enough to be black, and had completely different personalities. Vlad was quiet and smart, and Harri, much like me, was noisy and snarky.

"'S'up, ya guys!" Harri said loudly, flopping down onto the couch to my left. Vlad sat next to him, typing away on his iPad. Both of them wore black leather jackets, neon blue skinny jeans, and a white T-shirt under. They were our bait for this mission, after all.

"Waiting on you two, plus Carrie and Roderick." I said, looking over at them. Vlad shrugged, not looking up, and Harri smirked.

"Probably off bangin' in a corner."

I rolled my eyes. "Please, those two? They're more likely to bang you than themselves."

He sat up at my comment. He glared at me. "Fuck off Alfred."

"Sorry, but that's a liability." I said easily. He glared at me some more, but slumped back into the couch. Loud arguing erupted from the hallway, and the last two people of our gang stormed in.

One of them, Carrie, had straight, red hair that curled at the end and had black streaks in it, and bright purple eyes. She wore a tight slip-dress, red tights that were hid in stiletto heels much like York's and Marissa's. She had he hair up in a high ponytail, and her earrings were just as big as Marissa's.

She was glaring at a man who looked like an average teen, though he was part of our gang, none-the-less. His name was Roderick. He had black hair, flat green eyes, and wore a T-shirt and baggy blue jeans with converse.

"Why can't you respect my personal belongings?!" Carrie yelled at him.

He rolled his eyes and sat down next to Vlad. "It was not yours to begin with."

"What?!" She screeched. She held up her comb, and I saw black hair in it. Not the dyed kind. "I stole this with my own two hands!"

"Yeah, and I stole the dye you used to dye your hair." He countered.

Marissa hushed them and practically pushed a fuming Carrie into her seat. "Now, now, do we really haftah fight? I just finished breakfast, so sit down and eat." She put a big platter on the table - I noticed that it had the old company's logo on it - and we all started to dig in.

As everyone ate, Marissa sat down and smiled. She really did think of us as her family. This gang would be the hardest one to leave.

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_**Ah, GangLeader!America, how I love your bad*ss self! So the only character I own in this entire story is Marissa, who is my OC for Massachusetts. The rest are not mine, so I do not own them!**_

_**I don't really know what I want to do with this story, but don't worry, it will come to me!**_

_**Reviews are welcomed, but not required!**_

_**~PurpleLuna98**_


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